Moonlight Musings
by The Red Fedora
Summary: Reveal your true nature to no one and keep your mask firmly in place at all times. Trust was just a game, a tool used to exploit the weak…and yet she now found herself standing at the edge of a precipice, weighing the risk of dismissing her cardinal rule.


_Disclaimer: SHERLOCK belongs to BBC One and not to me. _

_Author's Notes: This story was inspired both by the fantastic first episode of season 2 entitled A Scandal in Belgravia and by a line in Sara Bareilles's song 'Breathe Again'. Slight spoilers for A Scandal in Belgravia._

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><p><em>Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth, and the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view... ~ Sara Bareilles 'Breathe Again'<em>

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><p>The faint breeze was warm and smelled of dust and camel dung. Still, it did provide some small relief from the scorching arid heat of the desert and for that Irene was thankful. She was bone weary, dirty and bruised and, thanks for her traveling companion's penchant for noxious disguises, smelled a bit worse than the camel dung…but she was alive.<p>

She was alive when the odds said she should have been dead.

Decapitated.

Her skin still crawled at the memory of the scimitar's wicked blade. Her hand rose to her throat, fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of the head shawl to lightly caress the skin at the base of her neck. A tightness pulled at her chest as she remembered the feeling of absolute certainty that she was going to die. The numb acceptance…and the regret…

It was the regret that had taken her by surprise.

Not regret that she was going to die. She had known at the beginning that the little 'errand' was likely to be a suicide mission. Mycroft Holmes had stated as much when the offer had been made. Life in prison for crimes against the crown, or perform this one small favor and all would be pardoned. The catch, if she was caught she was on her own with no hope of rescue. Even death had seemed like a welcome alternative to life in a sunless box. A soft humorless laugh slipped out as she considered the thought.

In reality, either option ended with a sunless box...

Irene tugged the scarf from her hair, letting it fall back to drape around her shoulders. The moon was beginning to rise above the dunes which rimmed the far edge of the small airfield. She watched for a moment as its soft silver light painted over the scene before her, soothing out rough edges and chasing back the shadows. She let her eyes drift close, soaking in the peace of the moment. The sound of voices carried from the open doorway of the airfield's radio shack behind her, and a soft smile stole over her features of its own accord as she identified one in particular. She brushed her fingers over her lips in wonder at it.

It was against her nature to trust. Life had taught her early on she could rely on no one but herself. Use or be used. Reveal your true nature to no one and keep your mask firmly in place at all times. Trust was just a game, a tool used to exploit the weak…and yet she now found herself standing at the edge of a precipice, weighing the risk of dismissing her cardinal rule.

All because of one man.

Her one regret as she faced death was that she would never have the chance to see him again. Never have a chance to perhaps right the wrong she had done to him. The memory of their last moments still haunted her. The hurt and the hardness set into his fine features, the pain and betrayal in his captivating eyes. Never had she regretted her actions so deeply, nor felt the sting of her mark's disappointment.

He had broken through her carefully crafted walls and laid her very soul bare…and in that brief moment she had seen him truly for the first time. Moriarty had been right in one aspect: Sherlock's soul still held a purity, a strong sense of morality, of right and wrong, untainted by the darkness which had long darkened her own. He may have skirted the fine line of the law a time or two; however, unlike her, in the end he had not crossed it. Perhaps because he had friends to pull him back from the edge. Friends like the good doctor, his caring landlady and the stalwart detective inspector. Good people. People with a sense of character which she lacked.

She was unworthy of him. Perhaps it was in part why she had accepted his brother's offer…a small chance at redemption. A hope that perhaps someday he might find it in his heart to forgive her.

Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the bland scenery before her into a kaleidoscope gray. Gray…was gray truly what her life had become?

"Irene."

The tightness in her chest eased at the mere sound of his voice.

"Are you all right?"

A small smile slid across her lips as she considered the concern which deepened its timber. She brushed the wetness from her eyes discretely before turning to face him. She opened her mouth to reply, but found herself unable as her voice failed her. The moonlight lent him a near ethereal beauty, caressing the fine lines of his face with a soft silver glow. A small frown marred the effect and his lips moved, but she heard nothing, lost beneath his spell.

This angel of vengeance who had saved her from certain death.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to break its hold, turning her face into the tepid wind and breathing deeply the scent of dirt and dung. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she achieved her desired effect. She was exhausted, had nearly lost her life in a truly horrifying manner, and had been saved by the one man she had never expected to see again. It was normal that she would be feeling a bit vulnerable; however it was not enough to justify seeing 'visions'. She found it odd, the fact that this man would hold such power over her…and yet she could not find it within herself to fear it.

"Irene?"

She opened her eyes to find him closer that she had expected, within arms distance, and she found herself feeling a bit lightheaded.

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Just a little tired."

The angle at which he now stood partially shadowed his features, preventing her from making out more than the fine lines of his face and the mass of ebony curls which stuck out wildly in all directions from his temple. She was amused at her sudden urge to attempt to tame them and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her loose trousers to remove the temptation. She felt the weight of his piercing gaze as he studied her, and she lowered her own in response, unable to meet them. Afraid of what he might see.

The soft drone of an engine drew her attention to the opposite end of the field as a small plane was wheeled out of the weathered hanger.

"My friends will see you safely to Morocco. There you will find a private jet waiting along with a packet containing all you will need in order to construct a new life in America." Sherlock stated in his even no nonsense tone. "I know it is against your nature, but you must find a way to blend in. Irene Adler is dead. This is not a game."

His words cut to her soul, sharper than any blade. Irene knew them to be true. She had made her bed, as the saying went, and now she had no choice but to accept the consequences of her actions.

"I've done all that I can to help." He added softly after a moment.

"And it is far more than I deserve." Irene replied softly. "Thank you, Sherlock."

His head dipped slightly in response. Any further response was silenced as the engines of the small plane throttled to life and the pilot signaled for he was ready. A feeling of overwhelming loss flooded through Irene as the reality set in. She forced the turmoil she felt firmly behind her mask of calm and stretched out her hand toward him. He hesitated for a brief moment before grasping it with his own.

"It has been a pleasure, Mr. Holmes." She stated sincerely. "I don't know how I can repay you…"

Her words were silenced as a warm mouth descended upon hers without warning. There was no hesitation in Sherlock's kiss, no uncertainty as he used their joined hands to gently tug her closer and threaded the fingers of his free hand deep within the tangled locks of her hair. She surrendered to him without thought, molding against him as she returned the kiss with equal fervor, attempting to say with her actions what she found herself unable to express with words. She opened herself to her senses, attempting to commit the moment to memory. His touch, his taste, the rapid beat of his heart beneath her hand…the utter feeling of safety and trust she felt in his presence…

The kiss seemed to last for an eternity…and for all too brief a moment.

His warm breath ghosted against her face as he sighed softly. "Be careful."

Irene nodded tightly, unable to trust her voice. She brushed her lips against his one last time before forcing herself to pull away. She felt his eyes follow her as she crossed the short distance across the tarmac to the plane. A smile slid across her lips as she turned before climbing inside.

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

Despite the distance and the darkness, she caught a glimpse of a small smile in return.

"Farewell, Ms. Adler."

Her eyes remained locked on his until the moment the door blocked him from sight. She closed her eyes, bracing as the plane bumped its way down the runway and then rose into the night.

Her fingertips strayed to her lips and despite the uncertainty and danger which still loomed before her… she smiled.

_A/N: Thank you for reading! As always I greatly value your feedback._


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